


The Wings of a Butterfly

by judgehangman



Category: Makai Ouji: Devils and Realist
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, like a lil bit angsty only, more fluff than angst tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 15:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3733948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judgehangman/pseuds/judgehangman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the flutter of a butterfly's wings can cause a hurricane, and William isn't sure what to believe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wings of a Butterfly

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not entirely sure if I correctly explained the Butterfly Effect. Sorry.

The Butterfly Effect is a phenomenon explained by chaos theory in which small differences in initial conditions will produce largely different results. The precise way with which a butterfly flutters its wings will determine the exact details of a hurricane two continents over. The butterfly keeps fluttering its wings, nonetheless, as it exists unaware of its ability to influence the environment around it.

William Twining thinks there is something strangely poetic about that concept, about the idea that the future results are so intimately dependent on small details of the past that the mere type of butterfly could alter the entire trajectory of the hurricane. He wonders what unrelated event led him to be staring in front of the window, thinking these exact thoughts, and wonders what would have changed if something minimally different had happened instead.

He sighs, and presses his forehead against the cold glass. There's snow still covering the ground outside, and braver students are dressed in brightly coloured sweaters as they throw snowballs at each other, laughing as if the sky wasn't perpetually covered in grey clouds until spring. William knows he will have to scold them and drag all of them back inside, and be assaulted by snow as they protest and complain, but there's still time before tea and it doesn't look like it is going to start snowing again any time soon, so he lets them enjoy one of their rare moments of peace.

The wooden floor creaks lightly, and William can see Dantalion reflected on the window, merely a ghost hovering over the snow, as he takes slow steps towards him. He blows a soft breath through his mouth, sees the condescension dissipate quickly as the room isn't nearly warm enough to completely fog the glass.

"Hey", Dantalion says, tilting his head.

William purses his lips, bites the insides of his cheeks. Dantalion's eyes are opaque in the reflection, barely visible but always contrasting with the snow. "I thought you'd be outside."

Dantalion beams at him, and William looks away from the window, to properly meet his eyes. They both know he isn't implying he'd been staring out of the window in hopes to see him, but they still blush as their eyes meet. Dantalion's smile softens.

"I'm afraid I'm not used to cold weather", he chuckles and looks away.

"Right", William frowns. "Are you just going to stand there, or can I help you with something?"

But Dantalion just remains staring at William with intense red eyes, so the boy decides to ignore him and look back outside, letting his forehead rest against the cold window again. He watches attentively, observes how the other students move around each other and laugh, their cheeks flushed with cold and warmth and happiness, as if the day is endless and their little infinity is everything they'll ever have.

Gently, Dantalion rests his palms on William's shoulders, and for a moment the boy tenses at the touch. William doesn't have any problem with Dantalion touching him, not anymore, but he's still surprised by the proximity. The flinching is a subconscious reaction, something he isn't actually able to control after many years of disliking the idea of anyone deliberately invading his personal space like that. But he exhales, and relaxes, closing his eyes as Dantalion rubs small circles on his neck.

“Do you think we would've met if I wasn't a descendant of Solomon?” William asks, quietly.

“Does it matter?”

William shrugs. He supposes that no, it doesn't matter, but as Dantalion sighs and moves until they're facing each other, he realises that it does. It does, because William isn't the same person he was then. It does, because now there is a part of him that is permanently changed because of Dantalion and he can't imagine being anyone other than the person he is today.

It isn't supposed to matter. He isn't supposed to feel those things. Those are forbidden things, unspoken words between them that would never be spoken because the truth is a blessing and curse. The truth makes him feel happy, but it hurts more than anything else, and William doesn't think he could cope if those words were ever said aloud.

And yet, it matters. It matters because maybe the reason he is who he is today is closely linked to the fact Solomon died the way he did, and it matters because maybe all events that led him to accidentally summon Dantalion wouldn't have happened if things had been different in the past. Maybe he wouldn't have met Dantalion if Dantalion hadn't loved Solomon the way he did.

William isn't sure how to feel about that.

“I just need to be sure”, he says, then, even though he also isn't sure what that's supposed to mean. He notices he hasn't been sure of many things, and it makes him feel dizzy. He straightens up, looks away from the window to meet Dantalion’s eyes. “I don't know what to believe.”

Dantalion lowers his body until his face is on the same level as William's. He takes the boy's hands into his, and presses his forehead against William's, eyes closed.

“Do you believe in me?” he asks, voice low and gentle.

Part of William wants to run away. Wants to say he isn't real, wants to distance himself, wants to claim he doesn't believe that Dantalion even exists. But that part of him is so small, so minimal, that he would be lying if he'd said that.

He isn't sure what he believes anymore. Isn't sure if he's willing to accept the idea of soul mates, not when he doesn't want to be Solomon, not when he doesn't want some magical cosmic force to determine what they have to feel for each other. He isn't sure if he wants to believe they were always destined to meet, or if he wants to believe it was never predestined and it was always a sequence of unrelated choices that led them to that day.

“Yes.”

Dantalion opens his eyes, and smiles at him.

“Then be sure of this: I found you”, his eyes are the colour of murder and hatred, and yet what they convey makes William feel warm and safe. “It doesn't matter  _why_  we met – neither of us can ever be sure, anyway. But I found you, and I would choose you, William Twining, every day if I had to. Imperfect, and brilliant, and scared, and so impossibly  _huma_ _n_ in a way that Solomon would never be. ”

William doesn't say that his uncertainty only exists because once Dantalion looked at him and saw Solomon. He doesn't say that he can't allow himself to promise him love when the world still hates him for the things he isn't supposed to feel. He doesn't say that the reason why he always pushes him away is that he doesn't want to allow himself to hold onto to the things he feels because it will hurt when it's over. Dantalion already knows all that.

“May I kiss you?” he murmurs, instead, because he thinks he'll never have the strength to again.

Dantalion is surprised for a moment, and William is scared because that’s a question he shouldn’t have asked, that’s a kind of silence that shouldn’t have been broken, but Dantalion tells him that yes, yes he can kiss him and William doesn’t have doubts anymore.

So, as he is sure ofat least _this_ , right now, William presses their lips together in a gentle, timid kiss, and the moment is just like the wings of a butterfly.


End file.
